What A Man Will Give
by FleetFan
Summary: Simon wakes up from a coma, completely disoriented and remembering only that someone has ambushed him. Shipped to an Alliance facility in a cryo box, he tries to discover who has turned him in and how to escape the blue hands' clutches.
1. Brain-Addled

He first became aware of his own heartbeat. In the stuffy sensory deprivation of the cryo box, that was almost all Simon could feel.

Then the nausea. The hunger. The sweat, chilling his corpsified skin.

Had it been days? Minutes, since the ambush? And...more importantly...who had ambushed him?

_I need to get out._

The calmness, which had been with him for so long, began to morph into terror.

It was hard to move anything - the box was tight, and so were his muscles - but Simon reached over with his left hand to feel his right arm. After a second, he found the pucker in the skin where the hypodermic needle had done the damage. _The syringe must have had insulin in it...the hormone that makes tissue absorb more glucose,_ he thought. _When the brain doesn't get enough, this is what happens…._

Simon hadn't come as close to death as being in a cryo box would imply; he had been forced into a relatively shallow coma, and someone must have recently treated him with glucose. But the pain was as though hundreds of days, bereft of foodstuffs, had come to pass.

_Thank god…_. Whoever had kidnapped him needed more than a brain-addled ex-corpse. They needed information. Although why they had not induced a coma through other, less risky means remained a mystery to him.

Well, if more than four days had elapsed since the ambush, Simon would have died._ It doesn't feel or sound like I'm on a ship anymore. Who can say how fast my captors were capable of going, but I can make a half-decent guess. So...what planets were within four days' travel?_

The coma had definitely dulled Simon's head, but the surge in adrenaline was steadily bringing him to. _No - none of that matters right now. If I make enough noise, someone may check on me…. I can catch them by surprise and make a run for it, I just need to muster enough energy._

_Just!_

Minutes passed, or maybe hours. Few thoughts came to his attention and fewer still were of any consequence.

Finally Simon heard the thunk of standard issue Alliance boots...; they seemed to be coming rather than going. _Thunk... Thunk. THUNK._ A pause.

He drew a deep, determined breath and started to pound on the lid of the cryo box, crying out as loudly as his dry throat would let him. "GET ME OUT OF HERE!" he bellowed repeatedly - until it occurred to him to tone down the volume of his yells to sound weaker. Simon needed his discoverer - or discoverers, God forbid - to underestimate his physical danger.

Thirty seconds passed and his hopes, though still absurdly high, began to decline. Either no one had heard, or no one had paid him any mind.

Then Simon heard a muted voice. Two muted voices, conversing furtively and near at hand.

"Sir, it appears a cryo patient has woken earlier than expected. Will you permit me to remove him from storage so he can be dealt with?"

A lot more distressing than the woman's ironic use of the word "patient" was the phrase "dealt with." It could involve the blue-hands men still chasing after River - nay, it was more or less guaranteed. Still, better an unprepared woman open Simon's cryo box than one of the menacing men themselves.

_Please, please, please let him say yes._

"Yes, alright; just be careful if he starts having seizures. This one wasn't put under the usual way - the transactor couldn't get his hands on any Byphodine, had to improvise."

Before ten seconds had even passed someone undid the latch on the box's lid and hefted it upwards, flooding the interior with harsh light. It hurt. But rather than shielding his eyes, Simon fought the impulse and shot up onto his feet, grabbing the woman's shoulders for stability and then jabbing his fingers behind her collarbone.

She collapsed in a fit of agony.

Even in the bright, searing light, Simon could tell there were no witnesses to his assault. The Alliance woman's superior had already departed, unsuspectingly assured of her safety while escorting a "cryo patient." And now the gray-clad woman lay incapacitated on the floor, clutching her neck and moaning quietly.

Simon paused for a moment, lost as to his next move, then picked the woman up and heaved her into the cryo box, closing the latch on her. The pity he felt was fleeting, as her co-workers would likely come looking for her in the following hours.

After his vision had adjusted to the murky lighting, Simon took a look around - he was surrounded by rows of cryo boxes in a short-ceilinged room, dim and cold and clearly uncared-for. The door had been left slightly ajar, the door of an office staring from directly across the hall. He couldn't make out the door's plaque, but this was obviously a government building, perhaps part of a larger complex.

Simon stepped weakly over to the door and knelt, peeking out.

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**A/N: This story takes place after the show's events and disregards anything that happens in Serenity. Hope you like it! I'll continue the story if enough people show interest in it. **


	2. Is That You?

Not a soul to be seen. Nor a sound to be heard but the hum of the ERV ventilation system. It occurred to Simon that he could lift the Alliance woman's ident card and even steal her ill-fitting uniform, but she would still be conscious despite his jab to her pain point. He couldn't risk cracking the cryo box open in case she tried for a breakaway similar to his own.

At least he was wearing a white patient gown rather than his birthday suit.

Considering Serenity's most recent coordinates, Londinium seemed the most likely candidate for Simon's location, planetary home to the Alliance Parliament. The world's inhabitants lived and thought much like the Westerners of Earth-that-was, so he wouldn't be encountering any language or cultural barriers once he escaped this government complex. _Okay, if._

Meanwhile, though, there wasn't much sunlight yet shining in his starvation-fogged brainpan (as Mal would have called it. Honestly, Simon preferred the term to "neurocranium"). It seemed likely, based on the scarcity of passersby, that there was a lunchbreak going on somewhere. If Simon could get ahold of a uniform or at least a visitor's card, he could replenish his blood glucose and start to chew over a proper plan. _Then _maybe try to sort out his memories.

Simon stepped out into the corridor and saw a pneumatic vacuum elevator at the far end. There was a map of the complex bolted on the wall next to it - spanning several feet, owing to the sheer size of the buildings.

The complex surrounded the Alliance Parliament and consisted of three separate buildings whose combined area filled hundreds of square blocks. The "You are Here" label on the map (hopefully superfluous for most employees) hovered above "Main Building No. 1," the largest of the three. A corresponding Cafeteria No. 1 appeared to be several floors below.

Simon entered the elevator cab with caution, but, seeing that it was vacant, breathed a shaky sigh of relief. The stainless steel walls seemed so odd - shiny, but not in a pleasing way - compared to Serenity's rusty old hull.

The descent was smoother than a luxury ship's, so much so Simon found it hard to believe he was moving at all. The cab stopped a floor down to admit another gray-suit, a man with a face nearly empty of expression and an aluminum attache to complete the cyborgian look.

_Don't do it, just don't… _Simon thought, suppressing the urge to look at the man, or worse, engage him in conversation. _What if he's a blue-hand? He might recognize my face…. I can't._

"Do you work here?" he blurted out stupidly.

The most agonizing moment of his life passed without the other man making a comment. "Shouldn't you be in the sanitarium?" the cyborg-guy finally asked, inciting Simon to look down and remember the white garment he was still wearing. Luckily the man, based on his facial expression, seemed indifferent to life itself. But that might not last.

_No...no...no…what the hell do I say? _"M-me? I don't - I'm - I'm a special agent. This is the first time the doctors have let me walk around on my own in - in weeks. I sustained an injury in a spat with some smugglers."

The story was amazingly coherent.

A "you-don't-say" ripple of interest broke the man's flawless composure; he glanced at Simon before asking, his voice now murmurous, "You've heard about that Firefly-class transport ship?"

Was the Firefly crew so worthy of the Alliance rumor mill? Simon strove to look knowingly mysterious, nodding and pursing his lips - saying nothing. This had to be related to the ambush or Mr. Cyborg would not look so uncharacteristically intrigued.

"Are those fugitives, the Tams, finally in custody?" he asked. "I'm a bit out of the loop."

The man had just parted his lips when a look of uncomprehending surprise seemed to pop a stopper between them. "Are…" he started in disbelief, but the most he could do was stare at Simon as his frown intensified.

"Mr. Tam, is that you?!"

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**A/N:** **It's hard work, but I'll keep these chapters coming if you guys ask for it. Thanks to the reviewers!**


	3. Take Them Off Or She Dies

"...What?" Simon feigned unconvincingly. The man scrutinized him for a moment longer before nodding his head, and his face and manner became businesslike once again.

"You, sir, have been listed as a federal fugitive in the cortex for months. Thankfully, officials like me have arrest powers; and I'm afraid I'll have to use them. Put your hands behind your back or I will resort to force."

Feeling more scared shitless than if he had been caught transgressing school rules by MedAcad's headmaster, Simon complied. Meanwhile, the elevator continued its downward slide….

The man reached into his coat pocket, and this blue-hand trademark Simon had no trouble remembering at all - he pulled out one of those "disruptors," those horrifying but effective weapons that caused hemorrhaging from every orifice. But he _couldn't _use it; they needed Simon alive.

When the man held it out, he gasped and backed up against the doors. "Shit!"

A bell dinged to signal their arrival at his destination and Simon staggered backwards, no longer supported, before recovering his balance and shooting off towards the cafeteria. His pounding footsteps and patient gown elicited a few head turns, but the cyborg-guy had not given chase - he would likely call in back-up rather than try to detain Simon himself.

Luckily, he spotted a restroom in mid-flight and dodged inside, slamming himself inside a stall. He needed to wrest someone's card and uniform off them as he should have done earlier, and this was the best place for that - where potential victims would be alone and distracted. His head was starting to clear, and it was an enlivening feeling despite the ongoing panic attack.

But wait…

Was this a woman's restroom?

A high-pitched cry of alarm confirmed this right away. "Sir, what are you doing?!" the hand-washing woman yelled irately, coming over to bang on the stall door.

No point in replying. Simon jumped up onto the toilet and vaulted himself over the door's edge, landing behind the woman then taking her down with the same jab behind the collarbone.

She collapsed writhing to the ground and he pinned his knees to her stomach (covering her mouth to muffle her screams) while removing the ident card from her shirt pocket. Unfortunately, she was petite even for her gender, so there was no use pilfering the uniform. _I need a man's. Oh, MAN...do I have to do this again?!_

Simon's heart rate doubled as a man's voice (speak of the devil) suddenly cleared its throat at the entrance. "Excuse me, is everything alright in there?!" it called. "I heard screaming."

Simon placed his other hand on the woman's throat as though threatening to strangle her. "_Say you're fine,"_ he hissed, then cracked his fingers enough that she could shout back.

"I-I'm alright!" she called hoarsely, still in too much shoulder pain to resist.

Alas, something in the tone betrayed that indeed, the screamer was not alright. The man strode in swiftly but froze in his tracks when he saw Simon, his hands deliberately tight on the woman's neck. Realizing that strangulation could take minutes and the threat would probably not keep the man away, Simon hoisted her up in his arms and grabbed a fistful of hair, holding her head against the stall door. "I'll smash it!"

"Don't come any closer," he said quietly, and the man was patently not a cyborg; he shook and stared wide-eyed at the scene before him, only muttering, "I won't."

"Now," Simon said, nodding at his clothes, "take them off or she dies."

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**A/N: I've been posting every day, but it's a little hard to pull off, so please don't expect it! I hope the story entertains you, and again, am thankful for the reviews. **


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